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by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-10
Updated: 2014-01-10
Packaged: 2018-01-08 05:04:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1128656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pavel comes back from a bad mission hoping Khan won’t notice.</p>
            </blockquote>





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**Author's Note:**

  * For [eragon19](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eragon19/gifts).



> A/N: Belated holiday ‘drabble’ for eragon19 who asked for “Pavel goes on a mission with star fleet and gets hurt. Then he comes home to Khan, and although he's hurt he tries to hide it. Khan figures him out if course and takes care if him.”
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Even after hours upon hours in sickbay and all of Dr. McCoy’s best efforts, everything still _hurts._

Every time Pavel takes a step, he has to hide his wince, and the anxiety of that reaction is worse than the pain itself. He _knows_ that he’s small, knows that he’s _weak_ , but now there’s vivid proof all along his damaged body, and his traitorous face gives it away with every little movement. He spends a good five minutes outside the door just thinking that, wondering how the hell he’ll get through this. 

Then he can’t take standing anymore, needs to sit, and his fingers fly across the wall panel, typing in his code. The apartment door slides open, and Pavel picks up his bags to bring inside. 

He’s barely got his shoes off before Khan appears in the living room, headed from the study, marching straight towards him. Khan’s a gorgeous sight, always is, so _welcome_ , and yet the last thing Pavel wants right now. Khan tells him with a small, fond smile, “You should’ve commed. I would’ve picked you up from the docks.” He pecks Pavel on the cheek and reaches for Pavel’s bags and takes them straight to the bedroom. For once, Pavel’s grateful to be looked after; they were too heavy to carry like this. 

He mutters a short, “Zhank you,” under his breath, then calls after Khan’s back, “It’s alright. I could manage.” He slips off his ground jacket, hanging it up next to Khan’s dark trench, but he keeps his Starfleet uniform on. It hides all the bandages. He’ll change in his room, behind locked doors. 

When Khan returns, he opens his arms, and Pavel returns the hug, one he expects to crush his bones. He knows exactly how powerful his boyfriend is, and that’s what’s been worrying him. It’s not so much that he’ll get _crushed_ , but that Khan will see him _crumble_ , realize how frail he is. If Khan had been in that shuttle, he wouldn’t have half his torso bandaged and all of it too sore to move. ...And he definitely wouldn’t be thinking about it even now, terrified every third second for no good reason.

But Pavel does, and on top of that, he’s twitchy and paranoid, and he’s immensely grateful when the hug turns out to be a shallow, soft one. Then Khan pulls back, and suddenly it’s the opposite—Pavel’s worried Khan’s lost interest over their month apart. Normally their embrace would be much fiercer. 

But Khan leans in for another kiss on his lips, and while it’s just as gentle, it feels the way it should. Pavel presses back and closes his eyes, urging his tongue against Khan’s mouth, just to be sure. Khan sucks it in and kisses him properly, sensually, just the way Pavel likes it, the way Pavel missed. A month is far too long to be separated from a man like Khan Noonien Singh. Pavel leans up on his toes, hands pressing against Khan’s chest as he pours himself into their reunion, and then the balls of his feet shoot a sudden ache up his body that makes him abruptly pull away. Khan merely smiles and purrs, “Welcome home.” Pavel missed _that voice_ as much as anything. It still makes him shiver. 

He repeats, “Zhank you,” and desperately wants to throw his arms back around Khan and demand he be carried to the bedroom. 

But that isn’t an option, so he brushes past Khan, headed for the kitchenette, murmuring, “Hawe you had dinner yet?”

* * *

He’s changed into a thick sweater, and he’s too hot under the dull lights and Khan’s smoldering gaze. 

He picks at his pasta anyway, too sullen to appreciate the taste of non-Synthesized food. Khan made it for him, he knows: a man of many talents. Every talent. And that man gets stuck with little old Pavel Chekov: an outcome that still shocks him. 

“We could’ve gone out,” Khan notes, his wine glass halfway to his mouth. “Celebrated properly.”

And walk that far? Pavel shakes his head. When he looks up, there is gratitude on his face. “But zhen we would not hawe zhis lowely meal you cooked for us.”

“You’re too good for leftovers now?” Khan teases. “We could’ve had it tomorrow.” Pavel can’t tell if Khan really wanted to go out or not, and it leaves him in a strange limbo of feeling perhaps guilty. As he skewers several noodles on his fork, Khan switches the subject to, “...How did your mission go?”

He says it so casually, like he isn’t a part of Starfleet, pardoned and valuable and more than capable of any mission any _ensign_ could possible get. Pavel quakes just thinking about it, and he mumbles a short, “Fine.” A _lie_. More importantly: “How were you? Ah, I’m sorry we were gone so long; I don’t like being apart, but it’s my fault—”

“Your fault that you’re talented enough for the fleet’s flagship? We talked about this, Pavel. I can wait. Your job is important.” Does he always have to say exactly the right thing? Pavel turns a faint pink and forces himself to shovel a few noodles into his mouth, chewing dully while Khan goes on, “I was alright in your absence.” An alluring smirk: “Of course, I missed you, but I’m used to having those I love unavailable. I had work to keep me busy. That went as expected. I confess I have no interesting tales to share. Certainly none that could rival the adventures of the Enterprise, in any case.”

Every time Khan says ‘love,’ Pavel’s heart beats faster. He knows he’s young, and it makes him feel younger, childish, but he can’t help it, still swoons when his boyfriend says that. The rest of the words were almost tuned out, and his brain scrambles to keep up. Oh, it was digging. For more Enterprise information. Those ‘adventures’ are the last thing Pavel wants to talk about. He doesn’t think he can eat all of his dinner. He forces another bite. 

He looks across the table at the fallen dictator that’s become his personal domestic bliss, a man who went through hell, dragged them all through it, and at the last second, saved them all again. Khan was, is, brilliant. He’s ingenious, fearless, faultless, the most handsome man in existence and the pure embodiment of everything mankind could hope to be. Pavel knows how very, very luck he is, and he’s still struggling to be good enough—he admires Khan _so much_ —and he knows he never will be. 

Pavel pushes his plate aside. He gets unsteadily to his feet, and he walks around the small table. He wants to slip right into Khan’s lap, bury his face in Khan’s neck and cling to Khan’s broad shoulders, rock his hips and be fucked and cry and be soothed and ignore all the pain. 

But he wouldn’t be able to take that. Khan’s hands would run over his body and feel the bandages, even through his sweater; he knows Khan would. He slinks to his knees at Khan’s feet, laying his hands on Khan’s thigh to signal that Khan should shift out from under the table. Then Pavel can worship him properly. Pavel _missed this_. 

His knees protest and he really wants sleep, but he doesn’t listen. Khan doesn’t move, so Pavel leans over to press a lingering kiss over Khan’s crotch, full of promise. He’s sure he can do this. He might whimper more than usual, but if his mouth is full, that won’t be a problem. And he can keep all his clothes on and still please his man. When Khan still doesn’t move, Pavel catches the zipper in his mouth. 

A sturdy hand cups the back of his head, gently pulling him away. Pavel looks up, unsure and nervous because of that. He can still be useful. He’s gone for so many more days than a man like Khan, made of sheer sex, should have to go without being pleasured. But Khan simply strokes the back of Pavel’s neck and says quietly, “It’s been a long day. You must be tired.”

 _So_ tired. Pavel searches Khan’s ever-changing eyes. 

Khan tugs lightly at Pavel’s hair until he rises back to his feet.

* * *

For the first time since this all started, Pavel locks the washroom door when he changes into pajamas. For the first time since moving in together, he’s bothering to _wear_ pajamas. He only has one set left, a hand-me-down that’s too big, but it’ll do. He brushes his teeth and stares at himself in the mirror, lifting his curls to check the spot on his forehead where Dr. McCoy managed to heal and completely cover a thin gash. He goes to the washroom, and he unlocks the door, back into their bedroom.

Khan’s already tucked under the covers, sidled up on the edge of the bed, a black, loose, long-sleeved shirt on. He usually sleeps in just his underwear. Pavel stares at his back, wondering if it’s possible for him to be asleep already. He’s on his side, facing away. 

Pavel slips into the other side of the bed. He thinks he can tell from the ebb and flow of Khan’s breath in the air that Khan’s still awake. Another first: no sex. Khan knows he’s here and doesn’t even try. In some ways, that’s more nerve-wracking than the accident. He’s always known he couldn’t hold Khan’s attention, but still, the thought of losing him is Earth-shattering. 

Pavel mumbles, “Good night,” and tells the lights to go. They flicker off, but the starlight that presses through the curtains still lets him see the silhouette of Khan’s back. Pavel stares at it, wanting desperately to touch it. “I missed you.”

Khan purrs, “Good night, Pavel. I missed you, too.” He doesn’t otherwise move. Pavel wonders briefly if there’s anyway he could manage to initiate sex and casually keep all his clothes on, pretend his tears are simply from being overwhelmed at his boyfriend’s incredible size, and manage to not get trapped under any weight he can’t support right now. He thinks about it, and he shivers. He spent so many nights up there touching himself and wanting to be home _so badly_ , and then the incident happened, and he’s too scared to press a kiss into the back of Khan’s neck like he so _desperately wants to_.

He rolls over onto his other side. He tries to tell himself he’s back in his bunk on the ship. He thinks he can feel Khan’s body heat, and he shuts his eyes. He’s exhausted. He’ll make up for this, somehow. He’ll keep Khan. He’ll... he’ll do whatever he has to...

He falls asleep curled into a little ball, arms too empty.

* * *

It’s coming at them, Hendorff says, no, shouts, pointing out the window at the asteroid that wasn’t there a minute ago, and Pavel’s fingers tighten in the armrest. The woman beside him isn’t Hikaru, couldn’t possibly be as good, doesn’t have Pavel’s trust, tries to turn the ship so violently that Hendorff topples to the floor, ore sample bursting out of the crate in his arms. It hits the floor and slides straight to the cockpit, bashing into Pavel’s leg. Pavel grits his teeth and tries to ignore it, fingers flying across the panel: a new course, they need a new course, but the pilot isn’t listening. There’re shouts and screams and something grey against the black—the side of another ship?

The science officers in the back are bursting through, wondering what’s happening, and Pavel wishes that Spock were there, someone senior that knew what to do, but this wasn’t supposed to be anything important and no one’s important. Captain Kirk is standing behind their chairs, though he shouldn’t be there, and he scolds Pavel in the midst of the rolling ship, while Pavel cries. Kirk tells him it’s all his fault, and then it’s not the captain but the doctor, making him lie down on a table. He sits up abruptly, covered in bruises and blood and wailing, and he’s shoved back down and strapped to the bed. He’s back in his chair on the shuttlecraft that’s spinning wildly out of control—it hits the side of the grey fortress beside them and warning sirens sound. It’s an angry, blaring alarm that blocks out all the shouts—Pavel’s hands are flying across the controls—the rock hits the windshield and spider web cracks shoot out of it. Pavel can hear the glass crunching. None of them are wearing suits. Dr. McCoy’s grumbling at him for getting hurt, and Pavel’s crying that it’s not his fault. The pilot is frantically calling to the Enterprise, but Pavel, somehow everywhere, knows it’ll be too hard to get to them—that’s what he’s for, a navigator for this minefield—he should never have left the ship. He wants to go back. Wills himself to go back. The surroundings flicker, but it isn’t enough. 

The glass erupts, bursting forward, and something hard slams into the back of Pavel’s chair, knocking him right out of it—his side bashes into the floor and the vacuum of space is all around them, the particles of some sort of beam surely too late, whirring around him and he’s going to die, there’s no way he isn’t, excruciatingly painful and horrible and he’s let down everyone he cares about and—

“ _Pavel!_ ”

Pavel shrieks at the top of his lungs, something guttural and in Russian, so shrill that even he can’t hear it, doesn’t know what he said. His body’s covered in cold sweat, his clothes clinging to his body, and he’s shaking uncontrollably. He screams again. His eyes are prickling. Everything’s dark around him, and for one horrible second, he thinks he’s out in the cosmos, dying. 

Then he sees Khan’s hard face, and he’s pulled into strong arms. They wrap around him like a protective blanket, gently holding him in, careful around where all his injuries are. Pavel’s crying. Tears are streaking down his cheeks, and his nose might be running, and he’s trembling. He buries his face in Khan’s shoulder, desperate to hold on. He clings to Khan for dear life, like Khan was what pulled him free of the tragedy itself. Pavel’s voice breaks with the force of his sobs. 

Khan holds him tighter, careful, so careful. It never hurts. Khan tenderly threads long fingers through his hair, stroking the un-bruised small of his back and soothing him. Khan brushes his curls aside and kisses his sweat-soaked forehead, murmuring, “It’s okay.”

Pavel doesn’t feel okay. Still, this is exactly what he didn’t want. It takes him several minutes to come down from the terror, to realize that he isn’t still there, that he’s safe. Everything is still dark, but he can feel Khan’s reassuring presence. Finally, he realizes just how foolish he’s being. He sniffles and tries to stop crying, but somehow, it just makes him hiccup. 

At least the darkness covers his blush. It doesn’t cover his groan. He feels foolish, so foolish, and he scrubs at his eyes as he tries to pull back, Khan’s arm loosening but not letting go. Pavel mumbles brokenly, “It... I’m okay... was just a n-nightmare...” He doesn’t fully believe it himself. He hiccups again, then tries to hold his breath to make it stop. He wipes his nose on his sleeve, feeling disgusting.

Khan asks him quietly, “A nightmare or a memory?” And Pavel’s head jerks up, peering through the black at the glimmer of Khan’s eyes. Pavel’s... shocked.

He knows. Pavel wilts. Of _course_ he knows; he’s Khan Noonien Singh—how could Pavel be stupid enough to think he’d get away with hiding anything? His tears burst out again, and he mumbles weakly while his breath hitches, throat sore, “H... how did you...?”

“I hacked your records,” Khan says quite calmly. He draws Pavel back into him as Pavel cries again, tears soaking into Khan’s shirt. Pavel feels bad but can’t stop. Khan strokes his hair and explains, “I’ve been keeping track of you, making sure you’re alright. I saw what happened on your mission.” Here, his hand stills, then slips beneath Pavel’s chin, tilting it up. Pavel gets the feeling that Khan can see him easily, darkness or no, and Pavel has nowhere to hide. It’s an awful feeling. Khan thumbs his cheek and asks, “Pavel... why have you been hiding that?”

Pavel sniffles.

He opens his mouth, and he wants to give a good answer, really does, but he’s been caught in a lie and can’t fathom more lies. There is no good explanation. He chokes again, eyes so thick with water that they’re starting to sting, so he shuts them. Khan’s still holding his head up. He opens his mouth hopelessly.

It takes several tries before he manages a broken, “I’m sorry. I... I didn’t want you to zhink...” He stops and lets Khan wipe away his tears, and he struggles with the worlds. Then he wails, all at once, floodgates open, “Khan, I don’t want to lose you, I newer do; you’re so good to me, and you’re so brawe, so wonderful. I didn’t want you to know how... how pazhetic I am! It was just a little accident, and I was not ewen zhe closest to zhe collision, and I was hurt zhe most, and I cried ower it, I cried _so much_ , and I knew I shouldn’t, knew you would be brawer in my place, but I just... and zhen I was so nerwous! I jumped at ewery little sound on zhe Enterprise—I had zhe whole last week off and still cannot get ower it—and ewery time I zhink about it I want to cry, and... and you are _so_ strong, so perfect. And here I am, small and broken and—”

“Genius,” Khan cuts in, voice steady. “And kind. And cute. And a wealth of other things. You don’t have to be like me.”

Pavel sniffs again. His fingers are so tight in Khan’s shirt that the wrinkles are probably permanent. Khan ducks down to kiss his cheek, pressing in hard, lingering. Khan kisses the other one. Khan kisses him softly on the lips, and Khan whispers against the side of his face, “Pavel, I would never leave you because you were hurt.” Pavel blushes. It sounds so bad when he says it like that.

“I don’t...” Pavel mumbles, struggling. “I don’t zhink you are a bad boyfriend, just... just too good for me.”

“Then I suppose you aren’t as ingenious as I thought,” Khan chuckles. Pavel wants to bury his face in his hands, but at the same time, he’s not willing to let go of Khan’s shirt. Khan sighs. 

Khan pulls him in by the waist, beneath his bandages, and cradles his head. Pavel’s arms slip up to wrap back around Khan’s shoulders, feeling bad that he’s cold and damp from the sweat. Khan kisses his ear and insists, “You are brave, Pavel. Accidents throw everyone off. Last I checked, you didn’t request a transfer from the Enterprise. You still filed a report. You came back to me, and you thought you could handle everything without any support. That was stupid, perhaps, but it was definitely brave.” Pavel doesn’t think he’s brave at all.

But he doesn’t care.

This was never about what he thought. Just Khan. All he’s getting out of this is a hopeful, “You won’t... leave me... will you?”

He can practically feel Khan’s smirk against his temple. Khan purrs, “No. I love you far, far too much for that.”

Pavel chokes. He almost starts crying again. He presses his face into Khan’s shoulder, just in case, and he somehow manages to mumble, “Lowe you, too.” He really does. So, _so_ much.

He couldn’t want anything more. Khan pets him for a few minutes, then slowly pulls back, and Pavel disentangles himself, even though he doesn’t want to.

Khan settles back down, pulling the blankets up around them, and Pavel follows suit, trying to suck up the rest of his dying tears. He practically collapses in his damp pillow and sheets. He winces but doesn’t want to bother fixing it now. He’s too exhausted to move. His body’s sore. 

Khan tugs him over, and Pavel rolls onto Khan’s side of the bed, sidled up close along Khan’s body. It’s better, and it’s warmer. He presses as close as he can, hoping he won’t be a nuisance. 

He mutters, “I’m sorry I had to cancel all our plans.”

“That’s alright,” Khan promises. “Just rest.” His breath ghosts over Pavel’s forehead: a perfect reassurance. As soon as he feels well enough, Pavel knows he’s going to pay this kindness back tenfold. He’ll be the best boyfriend Khan could ever hope for. He’ll make this apartment spotless, and he’ll cook all of Khan’s meals, and he’ll suck off and ride Khan and do every single thing Khan ever asks of him. 

But for now, the only thing Khan asks is the thing Pavel most wants to do. He shuts his eyes and he _rests_ , truly able to for the first time since the accident. All the other worries now seem so trivial; with Khan at his side, little else could matter. 

He keeps snuggled tight against Khan’s side, and he drifts off even faster than before.

This time, he only dreams of good things.


End file.
